


A Song That Can't Be Played

by RyleeWyatt



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Music, Romance, in which Switz tries music metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 01:59:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14439039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyleeWyatt/pseuds/RyleeWyatt
Summary: ...at least, not on an instrument.In which Switzerland struggles to find something within Austria's music.





	A Song That Can't Be Played

**Author's Note:**

> With my Swiss/Aus story, Nowhere and Everywhere, being quite lacking in the Swiss/Aus department so far, I was just feeling like reading some actual romance for them. And considering I've read pretty much every fic with them, my only fix was going to be to actually get off my ass (metaphorically speaking...I'm clearly in bed right now) and write it myself. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

_ Ugh, why does he have to play that way? _

Switzerland didn’t like to admit it, but Austria was multitudes more attractive when he played an instrument, mainly because he wasn’t talking. Though they now got along quite well, or at least were civil to each other, things the man said still could greatly irk Switzerland.

Currently he was playing an unfamiliar song on the violin, his elegant hands gently pressing the strings and holding the bow, eyes closed peacefully in concentration, the slightest smile on his lips. He swayed slightly to the music of his own making. And, like always, Switzerland found himself sucked in, almost losing control of his own body and swaying along with the musician, something he would never be able to live down if Austria opened one of his violet eyes and saw him…

With their civility brought more and more times Austria invited Switzerland out, often out shopping for presents or to the park; casual meetings that Switzerland didn’t want to admit he hoped had an underlying purpose. He could almost convince himself Austria had other motives than civility when he invited him over to his estate, like he had this day, and offered to play an original song for Switzerland.

Switzerland had known the other man long enough to know Austria’s music was the purest reflection of himself. If asked to play a song when he was angry, he would sit down at his piano and play a tune that could scare off even Prussia on a good day. If he was undeniably happy, he could play a song that could lift even South Italy’s foulest moods.

Now, Switzerland admitted he was trying his hardest to find something  _ else  _ in Austria’s music; a reflection of what Switzerland was feeling, played back at him though the violin held in a beautiful man’s hands. Civility was certainly getting old, though Switzerland didn’t want to reveal his feelings to only be rejected, and being rejected by Austria was certainly an experience he didn’t wish to have.

And so he simply listened as hard as he could, analyzing every note, hoping to hear the song he wanted to hear. A tune he’d been playing in his own heart, unknowingly, for months..no  _ years _ ...now. A masterpiece that made his heart beat like wild when he was around, but slow to the point of almost stopping when his smile was directed at Switzerland. It felt like both a virus and a cure wormed its way to the center of Switzerland’s being, uncalled for but inevitably welcome, all the same.

The song Austria played today was beautiful, like always, but there seemed to be no undertone that called to Switzerland the way he wanted it to, the way he’d hoped. He was so wrapped up in his fervent analyzing that Switzerland didn’t notice when the other man stopped playing, jumping when he felt gentle fingertips on his cheek.

He jumped, his own hand coming up to catch the other’s. Their eyes met then, hands clasped. Austria looked outwardly amused, but Switzerland could see a concerned undercurrent even though his glasses, which reflected Switzerland’s own embarrassed face. He was so close, making the tune in Switzerland’s heart speed up…

“Did I bore you that much, Basch?” Austria asked quietly, the fake amused look gone from his face, replaced with genuine concern.  _ I must look terrible _ , Switzerland thought,  _ if he’s actually this concerned _ .

Pulling his hand away from the other man’s, Austria thankfully stepping back, Switzerland took a deep breath. “No, of course not.”

“Then what’s the matter?” Austria pressed, not satisfied with the answer. “Are you not feeling well?”

As if to say  _ no, I’m not,  _ Switzerland’s heart stuttered again, the pain a heavy reminder that, despite all of his searching, his listening, he couldn’t hear what he wanted from Austria’s music. “I’m feeling quite well, thank you.” He’d meant it to come out with a firm tone, but it came out weak and unsure.  _ What is wrong with me today? _

True, he’d had a stressful week, and was more tired than he usually was when he visited Austria, but Switzerland liked to think he had more control over his feelings than that. Unfortunately, everything seemed to work against him in that moment, because Austria, obviously not fooled by his weak attempt at lying, reached over and pressed the back of his hand to Switzerland’s forehead.

Unbidden, but also unsurprisingly, his face started heating up. Austria didn’t seem to notice that, however, because he pulled back his hand after a few seconds and nodded. “You do seem a little warm.” Running his hands through his hair and sighing, Austria turned around and gently put the violin in its case. Switzerland quickly turned his head as the other man knelt down, giving him a pleasant view that would  _ definitely  _ not help the situation.

Switzerland closed his eyes and took a few quiet, deep breaths, trying to dampen the burning in his face a quiet the quick notes his heart was tapping out. Austria was humming, which helped Switzerland more than his own attempts. Quickly opening his eyes when he heard the case snap shut, Switzerland looked back at Austria, who was now turned back at him, a contemplative look on his face.

“What’s wrong with  _ you _ ?” Vash asked after a few seconds, uncomfortable with Austria’s cool gaze. He simply shrugged, a slender finger reaching up to push his glasses up imperceptibly.

“I suppose the same thing that’s wrong with you, if my guess is correct.” He waved a hand dismissively towards Switzerland. “However, I’ve done what I can.” With that, he turned and walked out of the music room, leaving Switzerland to sit in stunned silence.

_ What did he mean by that? The same thing? Does he mean…? _

Forcing himself to move, Switzerland scrambled off of the loveseat he was on and ran after Austria, heart aching worse but more hopeful than before. He turned the corner and saw the other man slowly walking down the long hallway, humming. It sounded... _ sad. _

“Roderich!” Switzerland called out breathlessly, relieved when Austria stopped and turned around, looking at him expectantly. Whatever he might have been feeling was now behind a mask of carefully crafted blankness, but Switzerland knew he was feeling something else. Suddenly angry that Austria was  _ running away from him,  _ Switzerland clenched his fists and continued towards the other.

Stomping up and grabbing him by the front of his too-fancy suit, Switzerland yanked him down so their noses were almost touching. Now he could see his burning eyes reflected in Austria’s glasses, his own eyes now holding a tinge of fear, but he made no move to push Switzerland off.

He was angry at allowing himself to be caught up in a man that had only ever run away and hid himself behind fancy things, his true self only given in his music. Switzerland knew it was irrational to be taking out his broken feelings on Austria, but he was tired mentally, physically, and emotionally, and just wanted to  _ know for sure  _ so he could quit hyper analyzing the one man he thought he knew how to see through, but never saw what he was looking for.

“What is wrong with me, Roderich?” Switzerland said quietly. He tried to convey his real question to the other, his  _ feelings…  _ hoping that for once Austria wouldn’t run away, and would give him a straight answer.

Austria didn’t say anything, but instead brought his hands up to hold the sides of Switzerland’s head, as gentle as when he played the violin earlier. His eyes no longer looked frightened but were soft, and seemed to be looking  _ through  _ Switzerland.

“You always have this look, when I play…” He ran a thumb over one of Switzerland’s cheekbones, both of their faces flushing. “I didn’t know what it was, but I wanted to see it more…” Switzerland couldn’t tear his eyes away from the other’s, but found his hands were shaking in the grip he had on Austria’s coat. “What were you looking for, Basch?”

His heartbeat nearly stopped, the song changing again. They were so close. An answer came unwillingly to his lips, the music in his heart drawing it out.

“A song...I keep hearing. In my…”  _ My heart.  _ He shook his head, Austria’s cool hands still holding him. “It doesn’t matter.”  _ Yes, it does.  _ But now he was embarrassed. A song in his heart? Ridiculous.

Smiling, Austria laughed gently. “Of course it matters. If anybody can help with a song, it’s me. Did you find it?”

Not trusting his words, Switzerland just looked down and shook his head, Austria’s nose bumping his forehead.

“Mm, well. I’m sorry I couldn’t deliver.” Using the hands on his face to tilt it up, Switzerland found his eyes locked back on Austria’s again. “Unfortunately, I do think that’s a song that can’t be played on an instrument.” Now there was a desperate look in his eyes. “ _ Show me, Basch.” _

Yanking Austria forward by the grip Switzerland had on his coat, he forcefully pressed his lips against the other’s. Austria sighed into the kiss and slid his hands so they were tangled in Switzerland’s hair. Switzerland responded in kind, placing one hand in the other’s soft hair and one on the back of his neck.

Eventually the kiss deepened, and Switzerland felt himself being pressed against a wall, the mid-height, fancy molding digging into his back. He felt like he was floating, but also entirely grounded by the man he was embracing. His heart was racing; it felt like a symphony, the mysterious song it played finally finding a conductor to tame it.

After they finally pulled away from each other, messy and breathing heavily, Roderich just grinned.

“What a  _ lovely _ song.”

Switzerland punched him in the shoulder.  

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hope it was somewhat in character. Austria is a snarky bastard, sometimes.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
